


The gay OC no one asked for

by ProfoundlyColorfulThings



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Environmentalism, M/M, Original Character(s), POV Original Character, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:13:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23760628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfoundlyColorfulThings/pseuds/ProfoundlyColorfulThings
Summary: See title. Effectively an entire rewrite of the show with a slowburn romance between JJ and a gay OC named Monk, who has mad anxiety. Thoughtful criticism would be much appreciated.
Relationships: JJ/Original Male Character
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57





	1. Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who commented. The feedback was incredibly kind and inspiring, and is the direct cause for me deciding to continue this. I've completely overhauled this first chapter (I'm hesitant to say I might actually like it?) after re-watching the first episode, and I'm going to plan on roughly one chapter per episode as I go through the entire show with my oc. Thanks again for anyone who decides to read this, and bear with me while I figure out what I'm doing. Also, I'm making Kie 1000x the environmentalist she was in the show because we love our female characters and they copped! out! and she deserves much better representation thank you very much.

_ We’re the Pogues, and our mission this summer is to have a good time, all the time. _

This is how John B, our beloved leader, kicked off our very first party this summer. Toasting to that was the first time in my life where I’ve felt truly at home, surrounded by my friends, my family. The guys I hang out with are the four best people in the world. There’s John B, our charismatic leader, Pope, the smart one, Kie, the environmentalist, and JJ, a complete wild card. And then there’s me, Monk.

The Outer Banks is the sort of place where you either have two jobs, or two houses. I don’t really fall into either category though. I actually grew up on the mainland, I’ve lived here only a few months now.

I was fourteen when a teacher found out about my dad’s drinking. In the two years since then, I’ve been tossed from one foster home to another, all over the mainland. Some were okay. Some weren’t. 

Somehow, Kie’s parents found out about me. Her dad had known my mother, before she died, and he offered to take me in. I’d never heard of the guy -- I barely even remembered my mom -- but it meant something to me that he had cared about her. That because he had, he was willing to care about me.

My friendship with Kiara was instant. We bonded during my first week living with them. She keeps me up to date on all the ways the environment is going to hell, while I rant about whatever work of classical literature is on my mind. She and I are good as brother and sister now. Almost the minute the two of us became close, I was a Pogue. It was inevitable, really. In with Kie, in for life, and that goes for her friends too. My friends, now.

I took to John B immediately, though everybody takes to him. It helped that he was the only other pogue besides Ki who wasn’t immediately offended by my presence in the group. But he’s also got this way of drawing you in, making you feel like there must be something special about you, if you have his attention. He opened up about his dad right after the police officially closed his case. Part of me thinks that all it took for our friendship to form was the fact that I didn’t call him crazy for believing his dad was still out there. That moment sealed it. The next night I took the pogue oath, and I’ve been with them ever since.

- - - - -

The day after Hurricane Agatha hit, we went crabbing. 

The boys picked Ki and I up at the dock, teasing her about whether she brought us juice boxes, teasing me about not carrying the cooler for her. Like that would have gone down well.

We drank our beers on the way out to the marsh, and JJ showed off his “party trick” for the millionth time that summer. He splashed every single one of use with beer. I’d be amazed if he got even a single drop in his actual mouth.

Suddenly Pope hit a sandbar, and JJ went flying. We all took a minute to groan about bumps and bruises and lament Agatha for messing up the channel.

“Guys… I think there’s a boat down there.” 

Everyone jumped in to join JJ and take a look at the sunken boat. I hesitated for a moment. Sure a drowned mode of transportation is cool, but do I really need to get all wet just to get a blurry, waterlogged look at something we already had one of. Must be a native OBX thing.

Then John B graciously made my decision for me with a yelled, “Get your ass in here, come one Monk.”

So I chucked off my shoes and jumped in, still in my t-shirt. The boat was about as amazing to me as I thought it would be, but I kept my damn mouth shut about it.

“That’s a grady white a new one fo those is like 500 Gs easy,” JJ was clearly excited about it.

“That’s the boat that I saw when I surfed the surge,” John B said.

“You surfed the surge?” Kie sounded a little freaked.

“That’s my boy. Pogue style.” JJ did not. He then proceeded to shove John B, complete with anchor, right off the side of the boat. He’s got a great way of showing he cares.

He turns to me next. “Look at you, man. You’re soaked!”

I ignored JJ’s comment like I always do. Unlike everyone else in this godforsaken place, I prefer to not rip my shirt off for the slightest plausible excuse. Kie’s parents got me a swim top for surfing, but most of the pogue’s swimming is a little too spontaneous for that. I spend a lot of my days in wet t-shirts. The rest of the pogues are used to it, though they probably still find it a little odd, but JJ never fails to rag on me for it.

He continued, “I mean come on man, I can’t believe you’re not even gonna take it off and let it dry. You’re just gonna walk around in that sopping wet thing all day, making the rest of us look like scum.” He shook his head in mock (or possibly genuine, you never know with him) shame.

“You wanna see me naked JJ all you have to do is ask.” I flashed a grin while Kie and Pope oohed and jumped in with jabs of their own.

JJ had shut up by then though, and joined in laughing. I’m not the most talkative of the group, so I’m sure he was just shocked I hit him back with something. Usually I just laugh along and take whatever he dishes. It’s never been really mean, and he loses interest after a bit, so it’s all good fun.

John B finally resurfaced with a motel key off the boat, and we  _ somehow _ came to the conclusion that we should check the place out ourselves.

- - - - -

We pull the boat up to the motel, and it’s a scary sight.

“Is this a motel or a meth lab?” Kie asks.

JJ and John B jump on the bank to go check the room out.

To John B, Pope says, “Don’t let him do anything stupid.”

“Oh we will,” JJ replies, while reaching forward to catch me by the shirt and pull me up on land with them. I was not aware that I was going to be a part of this. I open my mouth to say so, but I’m cut off with John B smirking and saying he won’t make any promises. Ok then. I guess I’m a part of this.

Kie lets us, or rather John B, go with a final, “Be careful, I mean it.”

JJ gives him a look at this. I really hope this isn’t going in the direction I think it will. I am wrong.

“What the heck was that about, man?” JJ starts in right when we get out of earshot from the others.

“I don’t know,” John B replies in a matter-of-fact tone. “Maybe she wants us to be careful.”

“Since she heard you’re being threatened with exile,” I shift a little uncomfortably at the mention of foster care, but neither of them are paying me any attention. He continues, in what is supposed to be a very breathy, possibly sexy version of Kie’s voice “She’s just been ‘oh be  _ so _ careful John B.”

John B shoves off the hand that’s caressing his face, but it doesn’t stop JJ’s, “Oh give me that John _ D _ already. When are you gonna swoop on that, man?”

“Hey--” my very meager attempt to preserve Kie’s dignity is bowled over by John B.

“Bro you know the rule, no pogue-on-pogue macking. Besides, you’re the one who’s always hitting on her.”

“Dude, of course I’m always hitting on her she’s a super hot, rich, hippie chick slumming with us, why? I can’t figure it out either but who cares bro I know that door’s locked because I’ve tried it, but have you?”

I knock his arm lightly, partly in reaction to what he’s saying and partly to actually get his attention. “Come on, man, it’s Kie. Don’t talk about her like that.” He stops to give me a look that doesn’t last long enough for me to interpret.

John B takes the opportunity to rib JJ back. “You need help, man. Not a little help you need a lot of help, cause it’s just like every girl who just has a heartbeat you’re like uhhhh,” he makes an obscene noise and a few choice hand gestures and facial expression and this conversation has officially gotten away from me.

When we get to the door, JJ knocks and squeaks out a falsetto, “Housekeeping!” before we try the key and officially break in.

While they boys dig around the room, I mostly just stand in the middle and wait. Now that we’re in here, in this dark motel room, shuffling through the possessions of some probably dead guy, I’m really not feeling it. I start to feel the antsy flightiness of anxiety creeping in, but there’s nowhere to go and nothing to even flee from.

I tune out the guys and try to go through some of my anxiety exercises. I count my breaths. I pretend that my anxiousness is yellow paint coating my hands, and that when I shake them it flies off, coating everything except me.

JJ’s still naming things he finds. He picks up a box of tissues from the nightstand. “For when you get lonely,” he says, nudging me with it. I laugh a little and push him away.

“Hey, you’re gonna want to see this,” comes John B’s voice, from where he’s crouched in front of the motel safe.

“Holy shit.” Holy shit. Money. A lot of money. And a gun. Ah fuck.

JJ picks it up, because of course he does. He makes blam sounds for god’s sake, pretending to shoot imaginary people, and John B and me. This is too much.

He asks John B to take a picture. Too fucking much. I can’t handle this.

Then there’s a tapping at the window. And cops outside the door. And I fucking short-circuit.

JJ grabs me and bodily shoves me out the window onto the roof of the lower level. John B closes it behind us as quickly and silently as he can, while JJ continues moving me far over to the edge and up against the wall. His eyes show more concern than I would expect, and he’s not paying attention to what’s going on in the room while John b peers through the window, watching the cops. He presses closer when he feels me shaking. I’ve started losing control of my breath and I can feel the panic flooding in, taking over at the worst possible time.

“Breathe,” he whispers. “Everything’s going to be okay. You’re safe, I’ve got you I’ve got you.”

Then the gun drops from his waistband and clatters across the roof and onto the ground. I clutch him and shove my face into his shoulder, choking and gasping silently into his shirt as we hear one of the cops draw close to the window. None of us moves, and somehow I manage to make no sound while tears slide from my eyes onto JJ’s already wet shirt.

It feels like years before we move. The police left without incident, but I still need to come down from my panic attack. I don’t want to move from the wall, and JJ doesn’t move to pull away, so John B comes close and puts his hand on the back of my neck, and I start breathing again.

When I finally return to myself, I still don't move for a few more minutes. I’m hyper aware of JJ’s face still tucked to mine, and his arms around me, and how wet I’ve made his shirt. I can feel the burning of my embarrassment from my face through my stomach. Everyone knows about my panic attacks, and they’ve all witnessed one, but that certainly doesn’t make it any easier to go through in front of them. I try to get a handle on my shame before moving, but I’m stuck, and they’ve noticed.

Eventually, John B breaks the silence. “Come on, Monk, let’s get you back to Kie and Pope, alright? You’ll feel better back on the boat.” He ruffles my hair before dropping his hand from the back of my next.

I nod against JJ’s shoulder and take a deep breath. My shirt is still slightly damp from swimming while I use it to scrub at my face, relishing the few extra seconds I get to remain hidden. JJ’s arms remain looped around me loosely until I move away, and we head back to the boat. 

Kie and Pope jump up when they see us coming.

“Where the hell have you guys been! The cops left forever ago what the hell was going on?”

I keep my head down, but I know they’re all exchanging looks, John B probably mouthing something meaningfully, while Kiara tries to sneakily ask what happened.

I step onto the boat and I still haven’t looked at anyone and I can’t bear to look at anyone and there’s nowhere to hide and so I just sit down and tuck my knees and my arms up to hide myself and I close my eyes.

A really, really tense silence, then “Did you at least find anything?”   
  


JJ scoffs. “Did we find anything? No I don’t think so, oh yeah, we did.” 

They gasp at the gun, and sink further towards sleep, happy to be off everyone’s attention and exhausted from the day already.

- - - - -

That night, we throw a kegger at the boneyard, because of course we do.

The pogues for the most part all go our separate ways. Kie’s talking to some guy by the fire, JJ and John B are both probably chatting up tourons, and I’ve lost track of Pope. I’m still nursing my second cup of beer, not up for getting wasted tonight, just trying to hang back. I’m desperate to be invisible.

Kie catches my eye though, asks for more beer. I take her steel cup (reusable, no plastic pollution, have you heard about the gyre?) and bring it towards the keg.

JJ is piss drunk, and starting to pick fights with kooks. Not just any kooks either, fucking Topper. John B gets involved, but Topper’s too fired up to let anything go. They start fighting, bad, and before anyone can do anything Topper has John B down in the water, and he’s not letting up.

Ki and Sarah are shouting at him to let up, and then somehow, god, JJ has the gun to Topper’s head, and he’s talking murder. Now everyone’s yelling for him to back off, but he fires into the air and screams for everyone to clear out.

We’re so fucked.


	2. The Lucky Compass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Largely the events of episode two, but minus the parts I don't care about, and couldn't find a way to add gay hints to. Also, some heavy characterization of Monk at the end, let me know if it's too annoying because I'm not sure if I like it or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't clear from the first chapter, this is going to be the slowest of burns. At least until I can't stand it anymore, and who knows what episode that will happen during? Thank you so much again to those who have commented and left kudos, it's absolutely all that has kept me going with this fic. This chapter is also barely edited, but I probably won't fix it up until the whole fic is done.

We return to the marsh, against the orders of seemingly everyone. After finding what we did in the motel room, the others, mostly John B and JJ are sure the boat was involved in some smuggling. They want to see what’s still on it, and if we can make some money off it.

John B has grabbed (i.e. stolen) some scuba gear from his boss, Mr Cameron’s boat. JJ had to be involved in the making of that plan. John B wouldn’t risk his job lightly, he must have had some encouragement.

But when we’re out there, Kie takes a look at the gear and only one of the tanks still has some air left in it.

Needless to say she’s pissed about all of this. “Does anybody even know how to dive?” She asks.

None of us respond, but JJ gives a shrug. “It’s kind of a kook sport.”

“I’ve... read about it,” Pope offers.

“Great.” She really is pissed. “Pope read about it, so someone’s going to die.”

JJ says, “Look, you-you put the thing in your mouth and breathe, how hard could it be?”

“Well if you come up too fast nitrogen gets into your blood and you get the bends.”

JJ has clearly no idea what Pope’s talking about. He leans on the rail in front of him and questions, “Bends like, bend over and…” he puts on a strange voice and bends over, sticking his ass towards me while looking over his shoulder and making painfully suggestive faces. 

I push him, and he laughs, nearly losing his balance in his awkward position.

“The bends kill you.”

At Pope’s clarification, JJ stands up again, serious for one second of his life. “Right.”

John B offers to dive then, because of course he does.

“Since when can you dive?”

“I’ll do it, it’s fine.”

Kie’s even more pissed with his response, and while Pope starts rambling on to John B about calculating time and depths, she gets up, pulls her shit off, and jumps in the water.

We all stop and look after her.

“What was that about?” Pope’s mystified. 

“I don’t know but I liked it. A lot.” And JJ’s… JJ. He’s still gazing out at the spot where she had been standing, and I’m watching him. I don’t know why, I can’t figure out what I’m thinking. He turns back towards me, but I look away, and help John B get ready. I don’t actually know anything about diving or what to do with the gear, but fumbling with it keeps me busy, and I use it to make my mind blank.

When John B jumps in, we all very pointedly don’t talk about the kiss on the cheek Kie gave him. Kie sends a pointed “What” JJ’s way, and he holds up his hands. 

I know the dynamics of this group are weird sometimes. From the very beginning it’s been clear that all the boys have a bit of a thing for Kie. I don’t know if it’s just a shallow attraction for the only girl among the guys kind of thing, or if they’ve all fallen for her over time. It’s a glaring example of the fact that I am an outsider, I didn’t grow up with them, I don’t know their histories with each other the way they do.

It makes me uncomfortable sometimes. Not just feeling like I don’t belong, but knowing that beneath the strength of all of their friendship, this weird element lies beneath. I’m impressed it hasn’t caused problems, but then again, they have a rule. No pogue-on-pogue macking. It was made very clear to me when I started hanging out with them, before I was an unofficial pogue. Being part of the group meant first and foremost remembering that rule. It was a little different, with Kie and I having the relationship of practically brother and sister, but I think it made her a lot more comfortable to have proof that that’s what I considered her to be, too. That I would screw everything up by suddenly coming onto her. It wasn’t until later that I told her there was an entirely different reason why that would never be an issue with me.

She offered to help me come out to guys as gay, and assured me that although their joking around may come close to crossing lines sometimes, they we be nothing but supportive. I trusted her on that, at least I told myself I did, but ultimately decided I didn’t want to do that yet. She, thankfully, has respected my need for privacy.

As lost in thought as I was, it took me a few seconds to process the police boat pulling up alongside ours. Shit shit shit shit shit.

I send a panicked look to Kie, and she hisses at us all to “act fricken normal.” I don’t really do normal, so I stay seated and try to pretend I don’t exist.

I’m feeling a little lightheaded while the deputy’s asking us about being out on the marsh. No one handles his questions very gracefully, but I guess it’s strange that I don’t manage to say anything at all because he’s addressing just me next. Blood is rushing in my ears and I miss what he says so I just sit there, blinking like a deer in headlights and I’m already berating myself for getting us all caught. Then JJ steps in front of me.

He hands me a bottle of water and I look at it confused. He says, “we’ve been out all morning sir, I think he’s had a little too much sun.” My anxious blush must look like a sunburn across my face, which probably helps sell the story, and I start gulping down water, thankful for something to focus on.

The deputy is quick to take up the story, and cautions me to take care of myself. I just nod, while JJ sits next to me and reaches over to put an arm across my shoulders. The deputy must take it as a sign of friendly concern for my well being, because he moves his attention to Pope and Kie.

JJ’s focused on them as well, but his hand slips down to rub my back slightly, almost subconsciously, while I work on deepening and steadying my breaths.

The second the cops are out of sight we rush to the side where John B is diving, painfully aware that he’s been under much longer than the air left in the tank would have probably allowed.

I sag with relief against JJ, who’s right at my side, when John B finally surfaces. JJ just sends me a quick, crazy smile before calling out to John B.

- - - - -

The next morning I ride with JJ and John B to visit Lana, Scooter’s wife. John B wants some answers about why his father's compass was on Scooter’s brand new boat. Honestly, I’m just here because i have no idea what’s going on, and I don’t know what I can do to make sure we don’t all get shot at, but being there for John B seems like an okay start.

The guys seem shockingly unfazed by the whole thing, but then again it was only a few nights ago that JJ was the one firing a gun into the air. Maybe all this pogue stuff is a little too much for me.

“I’m just saying I don't understand why you dont at least try with kiara. She clearly likes you.”

“Oh does she?”

“For fuck’s sake guys,” I chime in from the back “Are we seriously going through all this again.”

JJ outright ignores me. “She’s sketching about you diving, and then she kissed you bro.”

“She kissed me on the cheek,” John B corrects. “It’s not like we were making out or something.”

“It’s the low hanging fruit bro, don’t pretend you don’t notice. I see it in your eyes, you’re like “I kinda like that” and you start blushing ‘n shit.”

“Oh I blush?” John B’s just mocking JJ now.

“Yeah you do. It’s like you turn into Monk or something.”

“Hey!”

“No really!” JJ twists all the way around so while he’s still technically addressing John B, he’s taking the full opportunity to tease me. “You know, like how his whole face gets all red, not even just his cheeks. And then he gets all shifty and embarrassed about it and tries to hide his face.”

“You’re a fucking menace,” I shoot two middle fingers at him, from where I have my hands holding the collar of my shirt to cover my face. What a fucking jerk.

He laughs, and I feel his hand on my head, doing his best to fuck up my hair.

I swat his hand away, but can’t hold in my own laughter.

We hop out of the van, and start towards Lana’s house. But there’s the sounds of glass breaking coming from inside that has me on edge.

Then we hear a man yelling, “Bullshit!”

JJ says! “Hey, maybe we should come back. It’s a little too soon.” I’m surprised to see that he looks just as nervous as me.

“Shh, shut up JJ shut up.” 

There’s more yelling and then a woman, Lana, screams.

“I-”

“Shut up, come on.” John B cuts JJ off again, waving an arm back at us in what serves as both a shushing motion and a direction for us to crouch and follow him.

JJ does without hesitation, though he’s shaking his head and clearly doesn’t want to. I follow.

We stalk along the side of the house, single file and quiet.

A man’s voice comes again. “Where the fuck is it you bitch?”

“I don’t know.” Is her shaky response. I clench my fingers in the hem of my shirt.

John B stands to look in the open window but JJ yanks him down. 

There’s more breaking and slamming from inside.

“Still think we should stay?” JJ hisses.

“The compass wasn’t in the boat, where is it Lana?”

John B shoots a meaningful look at JJ.

When the men leave, John B and JJ peek around the corner to see it was the two that shot at us the day before.

“Ms Lana?”

She lets out a sob, and we find her on the bathroom floor, leaning against a sink that seems to have been nearly ripped off the wall. She’s crying, and she seems like she might be hurt.

“Hey, are you okay?” John B asks.

JJ tries to pull him away. “Dude she’s tweaking, come on.”

John B ignores him again. “Do you need a doctor? Let’s call the sheriff’s department.”

“No cops, please,” Lana says.

“Mm,” JJ hums, nervously, “That’s not good. Come on dude let’s go.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Lana’s words set JJ off again. “That’s enough for me, man, come on.” But John B pushes him back when JJ tries to take his arm again.

John B starts asking Lana questions, but I’m only paying attention to JJ now. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was panicking. 

He’s practically jumping out of his own skin, but he’s still glued in place. He won’t go anywhere without John B. His hands are going crazy though, and his eyes are a little wilder than usual. He might be breathing heavily too.

He catches me staring at him and he just looks at me so lost.

“Hey.” I reach out slowly and grab his forearm.

“Monk we should go we gotta go.”

“I know, I know. John B’s just going to talk to her for a minute more and then we’ll get the hell outta here. Until then, those guys are gone, right? They’ve already left.”

“We shouldn’t be here. We should have just left when we heard them.” He sounds so angry, I actually have to tell myself it’s not at me. His arm’s shaking a little in my hold, his fingers twitching.

“Yeah. Yeah I know.”

Finally, John B lets JJ pull him away, and he leads us out of there, still holding onto John B’s arm, but now gripping my wrist instead of me holding him.

- - - - -

Back at the chateau, JJ re-enacts the entire ordeal for Kie and Pope.

“And we were right outside, like this.” He backs up against the brick of the chimney like it’s the side of Lana’s house. “And all we hear is just ‘Bam! Bam! Bam!’” He sends a fist forward with each word. “Knocking  _ paint _ off the wall from the inside, right. And I’m just like— wait first off look at this shit.”

He jumps over to between where Kie and Pope are sitting to shake out the paint flecks from his hair.

Kie and Pope are unimpressed. As for me, I can’t take my fucking eyes off him. He’s so manic it’s making me feel wild, but to the others it seems like just JJ as usual.

I think back to what he was like back at the house. If I’m right, and that was panic, maybe this is just JJ’s way of working it out.

Panic exhausts me. After a panic or even anxiety attack, I can barely keep myself upright. All I want is sleep and, even though it humiliates me to ask for it, comfort.

JJ seems like he has no end to his adrenaline, so maybe where I need to sleep and recharge, he just needs to burn through it like this. If he needs comfort, too, I don’t know if he can ask. Maybe getting himself the center of everyone’s attention is the best he can do.

I want to fucking hug him. 

Pope and Kie are attempting to get a description of the two men out of JJ that goes beyond the word ‘burly.’ It is entirely unsuccessful.

“Okay well no like the type of guy at my dad’s garage I mean, you guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers.”

I did not. But I’m wondering if that’s what had him so spooked, when we thought those two men were smugglers.

It’s about this point that John B comes back to us from space, and takes us into his father’s office.

We learn about the curse of the death compass, though John B insists otherwise. Then he opens up a secret compartment in the back. Scratched into the metal is-

“Red ran?”

“It says Redfield, JJ,” Kie corrects.

I pretend to help them think of anagrams, which we’re really only doing for John B’s sake, but I’m not good with puzzles. I just hang back, like I seem to do with everything.

“Guys, somebody’s here.”

God. It’s them. The guys from the boat, from Lana’s house.

“No. No no no no no.” JJ’s just stuck on repeat.

Pope, true to himself, displays his stress with, “This is suboptimal.”

“John B I told you man why does it always—”

John B grabs him by the shirt and pushes him up against the wall with a finger in his face. “Hey. Look at me. Where’s the gun?”

“The gun. I uh, I can’t.” JJ’s hand is shaking while he runs at his face.

“Now you don’t have the gun?” Kie all but yells. “The one time we need the gun?”

“It was in my backpack and then I”

John B seizes the thought. “Your backpack. On the porch, go go go.”

Seconds later JJ is scrambling back through the doorway. “They’re on the front porch guys.”

We scramble to the windows. JJ tries to open one, and me and Pope shove at another, but they’re painted shut.

John B is up against the door, hands on his head eyes closed (shirt open), while the men start trashing the house, yelling for him to come out.

I’m hyperventilating by the time Kie starts hacking at the windows with a letter opener. Buts it’s too slow, and we’re making too much noise.

The door handle jiggles.

I’m gasping as JJ somehow wrenches up the half freed window and we scramble outside as one of the men starts kicking the door in.

I don’t know who runs towards the chicken coop first but in seconds we’re all inside.

We sit and wait in agonizing silence. Or near silence. It’s all I can do to softly pant through my sobs, but I’m crouched with my face buried in my arms to muffle them as best I can.

The men must have been distracted enough by what they found in the office to end the search for us, but with the racket the rooster is making, it won’t be long before they come looking.

“Do something Pope, shut him up,” JJ hisses.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Pet it or something or talk to it.” I can tell from her voice that Kie’s crying, too, and it just breaks me further.

“You do something.” I look up at the unfamiliar yet distinct sound of Pope tossing a chicken at JJ.

And I stare as JJ wrestles with it for a minute before slamming against the ground, breaking its neck. The shock of seeing it has me stunned into being somewhat calm. A few tears drip from JJ’s face onto the ground, but he doesn’t move.

The men drive away, but we watch JJ for a long time after.

- - - - -

And then we all forget that shit happened, I guess.

I shouldn’t really knock them for not seeming affected. Kie asked me if I was okay afterwards, and I somehow was. Well, okay was probably the wrong answer, but I honestly felt and still feel nothing about it. It’s like years have already passed for me to get over it, though it was only this morning.

But we move on, and head toward Redfield Lighthouse, following John B on his treasure hunt because that’s what we do. 

Kie at least attempts to question the reality of this treasure hunt that John B’s father has sent from beyond the grave.

Pope supports her by offering, “It’s possible that you’re concocting wild theories to help you deal with your sad feels.”

“Bro you know how I process my sad feels,” JJ says. “Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies, that’s how I do it.”

What the fuck even is this boy.

“I’m not concocting okay?” John B defends. “My dad’s trying to give me a message.”

“If it helps I believe you John B.” I don’t think Kie really does. I think she’s just desperate to get him okay.

“Look I don’t need a therapy session okay? I’m not tripping out.”

“It’s okay to trip bro.” This comment is much more helpful than JJ’s last.

“Whatever this is man, we’re here with you for all of it,” I try.

“Look my dad is missing, okay. Missing. You don’t know what it’s like to have the person closest to you vanish and then have no idea what happened. To just wake up every morning wondering.”

“John B, I know we don’t know what it feels like to go through what you’re going through, but we—”

I’m cut off by JJ suggesting that his father was kidnapped, and Pope’s suggestion of the KGB. So we’re done with serious talk and back to feel good, I guess. I drop out of the conversation.

We arrive at the lighthouse, and John B starts in with instruction. “Right, here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna post up and look out for bogeys, okay?”

“Wait… why me?” JJ sounds hurt.

“Because you’re not coming,” Pope says.

“Why?”

“Look JJ there are independent and dependent variables and you’re and independent variable. We don’t know what you’ll do,” Pope answers.

“Shut up bro just shut up.”

JJ and Pope both get louder until they’re yelling over each other.

“Just listen to me for a second. Just listen,” John B attempts to regain control of the group, and it works, because he’s John B. “Pope, you stand lookout with JJ, okay? Monk, you too. If we get split up we meet back at JJ’s house.”

They head up towards the lighthouse, and leave the three of us in the middle of what shouldn’t be awkward, but still is, somehow.

“I’m gonna work on my merit scholarship essay,” Pope tells us, while walking over to lean against the short fence. “I’m trying to keep my felonies down to a minimum.” This last part is pointed over his shoulder at JJ specifically.

“Alright would you just shut up already?” JJ then pulls out a hacky sack and somehow involves me in kicking it back and forth.

We pass some time in silence, interestingly enough. But then I start thinking, and missing, and about the fourth time I have to pick the hacky sack up off the ground, I made my attempt at talking.

“Uh, hey JJ, man, I uh-do you. Um.” Fuck I glance over at Pope, supposedly working away on his essay nearby and suddenly am way too aware of the possibility of his overhearing.

“Um, come here for a minute.”

JJ looks at me like I’ve just told him I crashed down from Mars yesterday, but he follows me a ways down the road.

I try again. “I just. I want to…”

“Hey man, spit it out. Really. I know you worry about freaking everything, but you don’t have to worry about telling anything to me. I promise I’ll warn you before I get ready to throw a punch. And I won’t do that for just anyone, man, you’re that special.” His jokes make things easier. They always do, even when he has no idea what I’m about to get into.

I roll my eyes in response. “Thanks man, but.” I take a deep breath. “I know it’s stupid to ask you if you’re okay, but. Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” He’s fucking confused.

“Yeah. JJ, you’ve been through a lot of shit the past couple days. I mean, we were shot at. Those guys at Lana’s, they came for us  _ this morning. _ I- the rooster.” I trail off. I’ve kind of lost where I was going, but hopefully the point is getting across.

“Last I checked, I was’t the one with a fucking panic disorder. Someone should be asking if you’re okay, idiot.” My point seems to have been missed.

“JJ, it doesn’t take a panic disorder to be affected by stuff like this. You seemed… upset by a lot of it. And there’s no reason you shouldn’t be. And I just-- you don’t have to deal with it alone, or pretend it hasn’t happened. We’re here for you, we’re your friends. It’s okay to need us”

He seems irritated by what I’m saying, and it’s quickly made me lose my nerve. This wasn’t how I wanted it to go. But it was stupid of me to think that I could just toss out a subject like this with JJ and think that he would be on the same wavelength.

“Yeah whatever man. I’m fucking fine, okay. There’s your answer. I’m not you, Monk. I’m from the cut, I can handle my shit.” He’s walking away before he’s even done talking, and all I can think for a minute is that he wasn’t nearly as harsh as he could have been.

I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to walk back into whatever weird tension is happening between Pope and JJ. I’m embarrassed to face JJ again, and decide to let myself have this time alone. 

Honestly, I’m suspicious that I haven’t really let myself process anything yet. Not since all this stuff got really messy. Because really, JJ’s right. I should be freaking the fuck out. We were in serious danger more than twice in the past two fucking days, and I’m somehow just carrying on as best as I normally do. But nothing. I don’t even care about the compass and this whole treasure hunt. Honestly, the only thing I am at all right now is just worried about JJ, who surely hates me.

I hear sirens then, and see a police car coming up one of the drives. Shit.

Shortly after, the van goes speeding away. I’ve been left. It should hurt, but honestly I’m just tired. I’m tired physically, and mentally. Emotionally, I’m so tired I’m not even sure I exist anymore. ‘If we get separated, meet up at JJ’s house’ John B said. Sure. Like they’ll even go there. Like they’ll even wait for me there.

I walk home. To Kie’s home.

My room is sparse. It’s comfortable, more space than I ever thought I’d have. Kie’s mother wanted to have it all decorated for me, but I asked her not to. I’m not exactly used to money, and I’m not exactly used to being part of a family. Things like this make both harder than they have to be sometimes. The fact that I don’t care what matches the color of my walls feels like just another neon sign screaming that I don’t belong.

Deep down, farther down than what I would ever tell Kie, I’m terrified. I’m so scared of becoming a burden, of turning into too much for Kie’s parents to handle. Of her father deciding that taking me in was a mistake. So I try not to cost too much.

I work at the Wreck, too, as much as Kie’s father will let me. He pays me for it, but it helps me feel less useless, and makes it so I can pay for my own things, which I really don’t buy much of.

I live mostly with the few things I owned before coming to live here, except for my books. I had only two before, that had managed to survive the moves between countless homes. One is a precious single volume binde-up of The Lord of the Rings. My dad bought it for me one day when I was a little kid. I had managed somehow to convince him to take me to the big fancy bookstore in the city near where we lived, and I ran around the place trying not to touch all the beautiful new books I knew I could never have. And then I saw this one. It absolutely captivated my attention. I’d never heard of it, couldn’t even read it for a few years yet, but I fell in love with it instantly. And my father bought it. He actually bought it for me. It was like Christmas and Easter and my birthday all at once. I couldn’t even believe it until I had it home, in my hands, and still, I kept waiting for the ball to drop. Dad had never spent money on something like that for me before, something that had no purpose but to make me happy. Of course he broke my arm that night, but the magic of the book never wore off. I’ve read it only a couple of times, and even though I’m in a nice home now. Even though I don’t have to worry about anything happening to it while I’m part of Kie’s family, I keep it wrapped in brown packing paper, just in case.

My other treasure, on the other hand, is the most beat up, ratty copy of Of Mice and Men that must have ever existed. It’s been glued, taped, even stapled back together so many times, that at this point it may be more repairs than original. This one I’ve read millions of times. I probably could recite the thing from memory if I cared to try. We were reading it in an English class that I was in during one of the homes that didn’t last long. I was only there about a month, and at the point when I found out I “wasn’t a good fit for the family,” we were only halfway through. The teacher told me to take it with me, though. She said that I should finish it, and that she was just sad she wouldn’t get to hear what I thought about it when I did. She was a nice teacher, a bright spot in the otherwise horrifying blur of all the schools and classes I’d been in before and since.

Of course, now that I’ve gotten here, I’ve collected many more books. Most are ones that Kie has given me, because she knows that although I’ll plead against her parents spending money on me, I won’t refuse her. Others are ones I’ve bought myself, managing to find them second hand tucked in the bottom of miscellaneous boxes at garage sales and the pawn shop, and a few I rescued from being recycled out of the library. I don’t think of them as mine, really, though. There’s just mine to use for while I'm living in Kie’s house. I know that I wouldn’t be able to take them all with me to another foster home. They’re as fixed to this place as my friendships with the pogues.

Between my deadminded state and my ability to read for hours on end, by the time I resurface from myself it’s far past midnight. Kie must have just gotten home, and something must have happened earlier today that I missed because there’s what sounds like arguing coming from downstairs between her and her parents.

I hold off going to bed just in case, and soon enough the fight is over and Kie is slipping through my door.

The only light on is a small lamp on my desk, so I can’t see her face well when she comes to lay next to me on the bed.

I don’t say anything. Don’t try to ask what the fight with her parents was, where she’s been, if she’s alright. I’ve learned my lesson.

After a minute she lets out a huge sigh, and begins. She tells me about what happened in the lighthouse, that John B was arrested afterwards, and her father had to post bail. That he had been furious, said that this was what happened when she hung around with trash.

He had apparently been angry that she’s brought me down into the trash too. I bite back my thoughts that they don’t want me anyway, that I’m just tagging along with Kie for nothing. I don’t say that they certainly didn’t seem to miss me tonight.

She then told me about John B, Pope, and JJ picking her up at the Wreck. She ran off with them of course, which is why her dad was still pissed when she finally came home. And I heard about the trip to the graveyard, how JJ had been high as fuck the entire time, that John B had deciphered the compass clue, and he wasn’t just concocting anymore. They actually found something.

I gave reactive noises at what I hoped were the right points, and did my best to tamp down the despair I felt that I hadn’t been there.

I told her that it sounded like a crazy night, and that I’d listen more about it tomorrow if she had more to tell me, but that I was tired. I got up to turn off the lamp, but Kie stayed in my bed. When I laid back down, she reached over and took my hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“What for?” I’m ashamed at how quickly the tears formed in my eyes, and the fact that they can be heard in my voice.

“I don’t know. And I’m not sure if it’s my fault. But I’m sorry you’re hurting, and I hope you’ll tell me why soon.”

I pretend to fall asleep after that, but I don’t have to pretend for long.


End file.
